Chapter 183: Interlude: Next Target
Unedited Chapter, this Chapter will be edited tomorrow
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"Even if you were stronger than me... what’s the use if your mind is this weak?"
The Ghost’s voice was cold, detached, as if she was stating a simple fact rather than mocking the dead. She crouched over Stuard’s lifeless body, her fingers brushing against his pocket until she found what she was looking for. A small, iron key. She slipped it out and stood, not sparing the corpse another glance.
She stepped forward.
The merchants trembled where they stood. Their faces were pale, their hands shaking. When she stopped before them, their knees hit the ground, hands clasped together in desperate prayers for mercy. But the Ghost didn’t even acknowledge them. Her focus was elsewhere.
She turned toward the mermaids.
One by one, she unlocked their slave collars.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Chains fell to the floor with a series of soft clatters, each one a small sound of freedom. The mermaids stared at her, their eyes wide with disbelief, as if they could not comprehend that someone had actually come for them.
Then, without looking at them, she tossed a small device toward the group. It landed at the feet of a female mermaid with a soft thud.
"Take this and get lost."
The mermaids stared at the item. A one-time-use teleportation device. A way out. A second chance.
One of them, a female mermaid, hesitated before bowing deeply. "Thank—"
"I said get lost." Her cold voice sliced through the air, sharper than her blade. "Because of you, I lost my sleep."
The male mermaid flinched, fumbling to activate the portal. A shimmering doorway materialized in the air, its edges glowing with a soft blue light. One by one, the mermaids stepped through, their chains left behind on the cold stone floor.
The male mermaid was about to follow when the Ghost’s voice stopped him.
"Aren’t you forgetting something?"
The mermaid froze, turning back. Confused, he glanced around the room before shaking his head. "No, sir. That’s everyone."
She lifted a finger and pointed at the merchants, who were still kneeling, still trembling.
"They kidnapped you," she said. "Now why don’t you kidnap them?"
The mermaid frowned. "I won’t gain anything from that."
The Ghost let out a slow, disappointed sigh. It was the sound of someone who had expected more but was not surprised to be let down.
"Then is it okay for them to kidnap more of your kind after this?" she asked, her voice flat, indifferent. "You can torture them. You can kill them. Even sell them, if you can. I don’t really care."
A moment of hesitation. Then the mermaid reached for a slave collar.
Click.
The merchants did not dare resist. Their own chains now clasped around their throats. Under the watchful gaze of the Ghost, they remained motionless, their eyes fixed on the floor.
Finally, the mermaid stepped through the portal, dragging the merchants with him. The shimmering doorway closed behind them, and the room fell silent.
The Ghost exhaled, rolling her shoulders. Her objective was complete. The mission was done. With measured steps, she retraced her path, ascending the stairway back to the surface.
The stairway was narrow and damp, the walls lined with cracked stone. Her footsteps echoed softly in the silence. She had done this countless times before—entered, completed, exited. But tonight felt different. There was a weight in the air that she could not name.
The silence above was broken only by the distant cry of birds. Dawn was breaking, and with it came the stillness that always followed a completed mission. She had freed the mermaids. She had destroyed the auction house. Her work was done. For now.
Outside, the night had begun to fade. The first rays of dawn kissed the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and violet. The air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of dew and distant smoke.
A mile away, she sat perched on the edge of a building, her figure silhouetted against the morning glow. The hoodie slipped off, and a cascade of jet-black hair spilled out, catching the light like threads of silk.
"Yawn."
She blinked, revealing dark eyes that gleamed like polished gemstones in the growing light. The exhaustion of the night was finally catching up to her.
Then her phone vibrated.
She lifted it to her ear and answered.
"Hello, Ghost... or should I say, Dear Lesley. Has the mission been completed?"
The Ghost, Lesley, hummed in response. Her gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to rise.
Then the world exploded behind her.
BOOM.
A thunderous blast erupted from the auction site. The entire building vanished in a roar of fire and debris, leaving behind a deep, smoldering crater. A shockwave rippled through the air, heat licking against her face as the night erupted into flames.
She watched, expression calm, her eyes reflecting the orange glow.
"It just finished."
The flames consumed everything in their path, turning stone to ash and metal to molten slag. Lesley watched without emotion. She had seen worse. She had done worse. This was just another mission, another mark on a long list.
Then the voice on the other end of the call continued, calm and measured.
"Your next mission has been decided. If you complete this one successfully, you will be promoted to the next rank. You will finally have the authority to take on subordinates and order them around as you see fit."
Lesley’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. Subordinates. That was a first. She had always worked alone, slipping through shadows and completing missions without leaving a trace. The idea of having others to command was... unfamiliar.
The speaker continued, listing a few trivial details about protocol, contact points, and safe houses. Lesley half-listened, her gaze still fixed on the distant horizon where the sun was beginning to rise.
"Understood," she said flatly.
"The target’s information has been sent to your device. Review it carefully. This mission is different from your usual assignments."
Lesley hummed in acknowledgment. "Alright. I will meet you after completing the mission."
She ended the call and lowered the phone. Her fingers moved across the screen, opening the file that had just arrived.
The target’s face appeared on the display.
Purple eyes stared back at her. Silver hair. A calm, unreadable expression.
Lesley’s eyes scanned the details.
Target: Caelir Vayne
Threat Level: Extreme to Impossible
Rank: Unknown (suspected [Gold 1])
Mission Objective: Locate Caelir Vayne. Establish contact. Convince him to join the hidden society by any means necessary.
Note: Do not use violence under any circumstances.
Lesley’s eyelid twitched.
She read the threat level again. Extreme to Impossible.
Her brow furrowed.
She had seen these classifications before. Only [Mythril] rankers or above received the "Extreme to Impossible" threat rating. Those were the kinds of targets that required careful planning, extensive preparation, and usually a team of skilled operatives.
But this target was suspected to be only [Gold 1].
Gold 1.
She reread the file, wondering if there had been a mistake. Perhaps a misclassification. Perhaps a typo. Perhaps the intel was outdated.
But the note at the bottom was clear: Do not use violence under any circumstances.
She let out a slow breath.
So I can’t fight him. I can’t threaten him. I just have to walk up to him and talk.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
This was going to be annoying.
She was a Ghost. She operated in shadows. She struck fast and disappeared without a trace. Talking was not her specialty. Negotiation was not her preferred method.
But the mission was clear.
She closed the file and slipped the phone back into her pocket. Her gaze drifted across the ruined city below her. The fires were still burning, casting long shadows across the broken streets.
For a moment, she wondered what kind of person could warrant such a strange threat level. Then she pushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter. She would find him, talk to him, and complete the mission. That was all.
She had no idea who Caelir Vayne was. She had never heard his name before. But the fact that a [Gold 1] had been marked as "Extreme to Impossible" meant something was off. Either the intel was wrong, or there was more to this target than met the eye.
Either way, she would find out.
She stood up, stretching her arms above her head. The morning light caught her black hair, making it gleam like threads of polished obsidian.
Just a conversation. That’s all. Walk up to him, say what I need to say, and leave.
She leaped off the building, landing silently on the street below.
Little did she know that this mission would change her life in a way she never expected.
The morning wind carried the scent of smoke and ash. She walked forward, unaware that fate had already chosen its next move.